Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  A thick line formed between his pinched brows as he scanned my features, almost considering me. During that brief second, I took a chance to familiarize myself with this grown version of someone I used to know. His strong, chiseled jaw had filled out over the years, making him look more like a man than a boy. There was still a knot across the bridge of his nose where he broke it in a fight one summer with a ranch hand. The dark, silky, floppy hair I'd always loved running my fingers through was gone now, cut short in a trendy style.

  My gaze fell to his full lips, which were moving. I cocked my head to the right and stared in an attempt to understand what he was saying.

  The chatter of the people around us filtered back in, reminding me we weren't alone. “Huh?” I mumbled, finding my voice.

  “It's you. I remember you,” Brenton said in a low, deep tone, almost like he was uncertain of his words. “What are you doing here?”

  “The hell?” Ryder snarled, drawing our attention. “Her dad, the ranch foreman? Ring any bells?” Her grip tightened, cutting off the circulation to my fingers. “Beka, don't you have something to say to this bastard?”

  “Beka,” he whispered, sounding like he was testing the name. Those green eyes found mine once again and widened in recognition. “No, not Beka. Beks.”

  My old nickname pouring from his lips, in his voice, snapped the trance. “Remember me?” Chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, I pursed my lips and drew in a deep breath through my nose. “You asshole! Good to know you remember the girl you screwed over, the girl you almost....” Building tears threatened to expose the devastation his words caused. “You know what? Fuck this, and fuck you.”

  Tears blurred my vision halfway through the room as I weaved toward the door. Behind me, he called my name, and Ryder yelled something in return. All eyes landed on me and followed the rest of the way out.

  Great. Just want I needed, more attention to our drama. This was not the plan.

  I didn't get my say, but at least this time I was the one doing the leaving.

  Chapter 3

  Rebeka

  THE MOMENT I SHOVED open the heavy wooden front door, the midafternoon heat smacked my face and stole the breath from my lungs. The stomp of my boot heels vibrated down the stone porch steps as I continued my hasty retreat. At the bottom, I swiped away the traitorous tears rolling down my cheeks.

  Remembered me? He couldn't be serious. Did that mean he'd forgotten me at some point?

  Wish I'd been lucky enough to forget him these past few years.

  I was almost to the makeshift parking lot the event company had sectioned off when someone yelled my name from the direction of the house. I paused to look back, only to turn and pick up the pace.

  Hell.

  Another glance over my shoulder showed Brenton gaining ground quickly, with Ryder hot on his heels and Kyle steps behind her.

  The tips of my fingers grasped the truck door handle, but a set of large hands gripped my shoulders and swiveled me, pushing my back against the scorching metal. The brisk walk and proximity to him had my heart thundering against my ribs and my chest heaving with each labored breath.

  “Where in the hell are you going? I told you to stop,” he said, not even breathing hard after his chase.

  “Home.” I shifted to turn, but his grip only tightened. “Let go, B. You did it once before. I'm sure it'll be even easier the second time around.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he gritted out. “What did I do? Who did I leave?”

  Mouth gaping, I relaxed a fraction, only to tense again when Kyle shoved Brenton so hard that the tight grip on my shoulders released.

  “Get the fuck off her,” Kyle yelled, taking a step toward Brenton with his fists raised.

  “Listen, I'm just trying to—”

  “What do you mean, 'What did I do'?” I asked, taking a step toward the two fuming men.

  Brenton's green eyes cut to mine. “I—fuck! Get the hell off me.” He shoved Kyle, sending him stumbling back several steps.

  Attention back on me, Brenton moved closer, eyes searching mine. “It means I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I don't understand why you're so pissed. Hell, I don't even know why I'm out here right now. All I know is—” He shot an annoyed look at Ryder and Kyle. “Can we have two seconds here?”

  The two turned their scowling faces from Brenton to me.

  Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, I scanned Brenton's face, searching for... who the hell knew what I was looking for.

  With a resigned sigh, I turned to my best friends. “It's fine. Give us a minute.”

  Ryder opened her mouth, but I stopped her with a raised hand. “You pushed me to find closure. I'll get it and come say bye before I leave.” Still neither moved. “I'm serious, guys. I'm fine with him. But if you hear someone scream”—I glanced back to the stone-faced Brenton with a smirk before looking back to Ryder—“then you two have to promise you'll help hide the body.”

  Their features relaxed a fraction, and Kyle even huffed a small laugh. Hand in hand, they strolled back toward the main house. Ryder glanced back once to mouth something about shooting him.

  “Friends of yours?” His even tone was saturated with sarcasm. He slid his dark blue suit jacket off and tossed it on top of the truck hood. “Damn this heat.”

  Well, at least we agreed on one thing.

  “Come on.” With a wave, I turned toward Daddy and Bradley's house. As the ranch foreman, Daddy had the largest house of all the live-in help, and it happened to be a short walk from where we stood. It might be awkward, but at least we’d be in the air conditioning while we caught up.

  Hell. Caught up. With Brenton fucking Graves.

  I'd dreamed of this moment. Fantasized about it. And now that it was here, I had zero ideas on what to say or do.

  Neither of us spoke during the short walk, but I watched him take in the expansive property from the corner of my eye. “It’s been a while,” I said as we climbed the rickety wooden steps to the porch. “Does it look the same?”

  The screen door screeched and the wooden door jarred open from the shoulder I shoved against it. Once inside, I toed off my boots, leaving them beside the door. The entire time, I felt his eyes on me, even as I tiptoed in socks to the worn leather armchair and relaxed into it.

  “You grew up here?” he said, a mix between a question and a statement as he looked around the small, rustic room. After Mom died, Daddy didn't put much effort into decorating. Who was I kidding—he didn't put effort into anything except seeing how fast he could reach the bottom of a bottle. “I remember this place. Well, pieces of it. Why?”

  I sank my teeth into my lower lip to keep a smile at bay. “Well, we didn't spend a lot of time in here. You don't remember?”

  “No.”

  “You're not shitting me?”

  “Shitting you? Why in the hell would I do that?” he said with a grimace. “Fuck, what did I do? Tell me. Now.”

  “I've been your game before, so why not now too, B?” I monitored his reaction, but only more remorse softened his twitching jaw and fiery gaze.

  “Tell me.” He fell to the worn couch opposite of me and leaned his head back, sealing his eyes shut. “You have to understand something. There are years of my life, whole years, that I don't remember. Maybe a few hazy memories here and there, like the ones with you that popped up, but nothing solid. When I saw you in the house, snapshots filtered through. Not real memories, if that makes sense.”

  “It doesn't. Listen, it was thirteen years go—”

  “Please tell me. I fucked something up, but I don't know what. What did I do to you?”

  Turning from his intense, imploring gaze, I stared over his shoulder out the window. “It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago. Wish I could forget as easily as you did.” I looked back to him and shrugged. “Consider yourself closed.” My palms slapped the leather armrests with a smack as I pushed to stand.

  “What?”

  “
I needed closure, and even though it wasn't nearly as gratifying as I thought it would be, I got it. I can move on now.”

  Such a big fat lie, but he didn't need to know that.

  He shoved off the couch and gripped my shoulders with his large, strong hands. That close, I had to tip my head back a bit to meet his gaze.

  “What if I don't want to be closed just yet?”

  “What?” I gasped and tried to step back, but his grip tightened, preventing me from going anywhere without his consent.

  “What if I want to remember? Don't I get a say?”

  The hint of desperation, the near-silent plea in his tone had me considering his request.

  “Why?” I asked and lowered my gaze to the collar of his crisp, white dress shirt. “Why does it matter? You forgot about me, about this place, for years. Why not go back to forgetting?”

  His hands slid across my shoulders, skimming up my neck to cup my cheeks between his callused palms. “I can't explain it now. It's... complicated. All I know is in the house, something happened when I saw you.”

  “What?”

  “Peace. A settled, comforting peace. I need help, Beks, and I know I don't deserve it, but I'm asking anyway. Don't ask me why, but I think you're my only hope.”

  Wow, that was not what I expected from this conversation. Broken lamps, tears, lots of yelled names and accusations, but not that.

  Help. He needed my help.

  Staring into his bright green eyes, the honesty I found felt genuine. This man had done a lot of things, but lying to me was never one of them, and a piece of me wanted to believe that side of him hadn't changed over the years.

  “Five days,” he continued when I didn't respond. “The attorneys will be here in five days to settle Pappy's estate. I'll stay here until then, if you're willing to help.” I opened my mouth, but he pressed both his thumbs against my lips. “I don't expect an answer right now. Come find me when you decide. I'll wait. But I hope you do.”

  He gave a long, considering look, searching my eyes before stepping back and turning for the door.

  Long after he'd left, I still stood in the same spot, staring at the closed front door, dumbfounded at the unexpected turn of events.

  I ADJUSTED IN THE HARD dining room table chair to ease the ache it’d caused from just the few minutes of sitting in it. From the seat, I kept a cautious eye on Daddy, who paced the length of the living room mumbling to himself. Too busy considering Brenton's request for help, I didn't go back to the main house after he left. Instead, I stayed here, texted Ryder that I was good and not to worry, and poured three fingers of the whiskey I found hidden in the back of the pantry.

  “I don't like it,” Daddy said.

  For the last minute, he'd been mulling over the suggestion I offered of sticking around for a few days until we knew the ranch's, and his, fate. No way in hell would I tell him the other reason for me wanting to stay. He would flip the fuck out. Daddy hated Brenton back then, and no doubt hadn't adjusted his feelings toward the man these past few years. Because now, instead of being the older boy flirting with Daddy’s young daughter, Brenton was the man I’d signed a legal agreement with to never seek him out or be involved with again.

  Funny, Brenton didn't even mention that tidbit today. Guess that was another blip of history he'd conveniently forgotten.

  I rolled the cold glass between my wrists to try and calm my racing pulse. The man wasn't even around and I was still affected by him.

  After taking the last sip of whiskey, I slid the glass to the middle of the table and stood to stretch out my lower back. “It's only for a few days, and I can help out around here too.”

  “We don't need your help.”

  “Maybe we do.” I glanced to Bradley, who sat on the couch playing on his phone. Dark brown eyes flicked up to meet mine. A bit of tension eased from my tight shoulders when I found his eyes bright, maybe slightly bloodshot but not glassy like they'd been for years. Getting my older brother addicted to their high-end drug was another reason Daddy hated Brenton and Caleb. Even though you couldn't blame the Graves boys too much considering Bradley used to be, and maybe still was, the guy you went to around here for anything illegal.

  Ever since Caleb passed several months ago, I'd heard Bradley had cleaned up his act. Hopefully it stuck this time around.

  Bradley shrugged and went back to staring at his phone. “Let her stay, Dad. After you fired those two boys last month, things have stacked up.”

  “What?” I turned back to Daddy, who attempted to look engrossed in the new Cavender's mailer.

  “Lazy-ass kids is what happened.”

  Or they got tired of taking orders from your drunk ass perched in your leather recliner throne.

  If I were a betting girl, I'd put money on that being the case rather than them being lazy.

  “If you want to help around here, you could find yourself a husband like that friend Kyle of yours. Having another man around here couldn't hurt.”

  “A man,” I deadpanned.

  “More useful than someone like you.”

  Ouch. Good to know being born with girl bits still disappointed him.

  “Maybe one day,” I said back instead of all the pent-up hateful things I wanted to throw at him.

  “Someday has come and gone, Rebeka. You spent all those years in school and now look where you are. No land, no husband, no family. Go out and get a good man, if you can find one at your age.”

  Sharp nails bit into my palms. Dammit, what was I thinking? No way in hell could I stay there. Not with him, not back to this.

  The door slammed at my back, and I stomped to the porch swing before falling into it. A degree, a place of my own, strong, confident, and still not good enough for him.

  Never had been.

  And he wondered why I ran straight into Brenton’s open arms all those years ago. What no one witnessed was the comforting, protective side B only showed me. The side that accepted me for me and listened night after night. There were never expectations, no judgments when we were together. Just us. Those late nights gazing at the stars, talking and laughing, we were free from our families. And maybe that was what I missed the most and had held on to for so long.

  Even though I didn't will it, Daddy's words still stung. Deep down, I did want to belong to someone again. To have a partner in crime to share a life with besides Ryder.

  Adjusting on the swing to look south, I scanned the main house and the few cars that still lined the driveway before focusing on their large ranch-style home. Loneliness gripped at my already aching heart. Who was I kidding? I didn't just miss the talks—I missed him. I’d missed him since the day he left. And today his touch and long looks ignited something long smothered inside me.

  Thumb against my lips, I ghosted it back and forth as he had done. Just that simple touch, coupled with his hands against my cheeks, nearly did me in. How had I forgotten the sensation of my breath catching, the dip of my stomach like I was falling, the pounding of my heart against my chest so hard, so fast and loud that there was no way the rest of the world didn't hear it?

  I was a fool to say yes to his request for help, but I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking I could say no.

  So there I had it. Five days with the man to help him... oh hell, he never mentioned what he needed me to do. I should’ve pressed him for details, but at the time my hormones and mind had swirled like an F5 tornado, making simple thoughts impossible.

  The porch swing squeaked as I pushed it back and forth with the tips of my toes against the floor. Hopefully I could help him and get closure at the same time.

  From inside the house, Daddy’s and Bradley’s cheers and the noises of the TV filtered through the thin glass panes.

  Pulling my phone from my dress pocket, I swiped the screen and opened an old text string.

  Me: I'm sticking around for a few days.

  Ryder: At home. With your father. Is that such a good idea?

  Ryder: What about work?

&n
bsp; Me: Already took a few days off for this, so I'll tell them I need a few more.

  Me: I'm going to help around here until we know the ranch's fate.

  Me: Plus I just learned Daddy fired two people last month and hasn’t replaced them.

  Me: Which means there's a bunch not getting done. He definitely isn't doing shit, leaving it all to Bradley.

  Ryder: Speaking of your brother...

  Me: Oh no. What?

  Ryder: I've heard through the rumor mill that some bad-news peeps are looking for him.

  Ryder: Maybe the same who were looking for Caleb last year when Old Man Graves upped security.

  Ryder: Keep an eye open if you're going be around there.

  Me: Maybe you could send Kyle over to protect the house. Daddy would love that. You know, since I'm a girl and can't do anything right.

  Ryder: Your dad is a sexist prick. I don't know who I'm more worried about you being around, him or Brenton.

  Ryder: Which reminds me, how did the closure go?

  Crickets chirped in the night as I stared at the last text. A hot wind blew a chunk of dark hair across my face, blocking the screen. I should tell her what was going on, but then she'd come over and talk me out of it, and that was precisely what I didn't want to happen. Because even though this was the worst idea ever, I wanted to see him again.

  Me: Good. He says he was so messed up during that time that he doesn't remember anything.

  Ryder: How convenient for him not to remember almost killing someone. I hope you gave him an earful.

  Me: Yep.

  Ryder: You okay? Need me to run by the liquor store?

  Me: Nope, I'm good. It's too late to run by the apartment to get clothes, so I'll go in the morning.

  Ryder: Okay, just stay away from your dad. And Brenton. And Brenton's slimy-ass dad. Shit, you sure this is a good idea? Want me to come over? I just got my LTC.